The Ghost Train (1941)

Ah, Music Hall. A form of entertainment which is completely and utterly
unfathomable to anyone born after 1955, and which (one hopes) most people
with taste found hateful even before that date. A pair of pillocks in
daft hats and overcoats singing “Underneath the arches”. Women
with feathers in their hats conducting Cockernee singalongs. Arthur fucking
Askey.

If, as a modern viewer, you don’t think you find Arthur “Ithankyew”
Askey particularly irritating, then it is possible to remedy that view
quite quickly. The Ghost Train acts as a crash course in just
how annoying the little twat could be.

In the man’s defence, it does appear that he’s playing a character
who’s supposed to be that annoying, but he really is good at it.
And the viewer has to admire the guts of a “star” who is willing
to be the lead in a film which portrays him as such a tosser – by
the end of the film you really are hoping that something nasty will happen
to the little buffoon (as, by the look of it, are the rest of the cast).

Luckily, Askey aside, The Ghost Train is an effective horror
film, with moments of genuine creepiness and a suspenseful premise –
rare for a wartime offering, due to the supposed “moratorium”
imposed on horror films which led to them being “snuck out”
under the comedy / whimsy / Askey banner. And of course, if it wasn’t
for Askey’s character’s utter selfishness, the whole film
wouldn’t have happened - the unfortunate predicament of the disparate
group who find themselves stranded in a supposedly haunted railway station
is all down to Askey’s character Tommy Gander pulling the communication
chord after losing his “titfer” out the window (“It
was you who stopped the train!” / “Yes, I don’t
know me own strength!”).

Gander and his friend (regular partner Richard “Stinker” Murdoch)
have been lamely trying to pick up girls on the train before this unforeseen
delay sees their ride arrive too late for the connection, which hasn’t
enamoured either of them to the girls or the various handy-looking men
who have been quick to step up to protect their honour. Once stranded
on the platform of the station, everyone is quick to take out their frustration
on the man responsible (“the next time you drop your hat out of
the window, I hope you forget to take it orf”), but he seems utterly
immune to any of the stiff-upper-lipped attacks, even when one large angry
fellow passenger echoes the thoughts of the audience with: “To think
we’ve got to put up with that little squirt for the next eight hours!”

As a storm approaches, the stationmaster tells the group that he won’t
let them stay on the station alone, but that he won’t stay with
them either. “Anyone would think from the way you go on that the
place was haunted,” laughs one woman passenger. “It is haunted,”
he replies sagely, prompting Gander to walk about with his arms outstretched,
mummy-style.

The stationmaster tells a tale of 43 years ago, when the then stationmaster
died from heart failure as he was half way through closing the swing bridge
nearby. The next train crashed, killing the occupants. The line hasn’t
been used since, but on some nights the train can still be heard…
“They do say that to look on the ghost train would mean death,”
he adds, less than cheerily.

After this bit of news, the group convince the stationmaster that they
have to stay, and Gander tries to cheer them all up with a song (his record
player, being used to accompany his inane warbling, gets unceremoniously
dumped on the rail tracks). He goes to light the gas in the kitchen. It
explodes (“It’s alright everybody, that was the tea urn. I
just ‘tea-urned’ the gas on. I’ll have to take that
out of the joke book…”). He spends a good five minutes pretending
to step over the invisible body of the stationmaster. He’s basically
intent on winding everyone up (I lost count of the amount of fists he
had brandished in his direction, and the train guard’s reaction
to his high-jinks is the first and only time I’ve ever heard the
word “Gertcha!” used seriously in anger).

There follows a genuine moment of suspense, as the now jittery (and annoyed)
group hear something coming down the platform towards them. It turns out
to be the stationmaster, who promptly drops down dead of a heart attack,
his body then mysteriously disappearing. Another couple turn up at the
station – Julia, who seems rather highly strung, and her brother,
who has just crashed his car nearby. Julia, who claims she can see the
ghost of the old stationmaster, now starts racking up the tension with
considerable panache, and suddenly the lights go out, plunging everyone
into shadow. The platform bell begins to ring, and there’s the sound
of a train approaching, which gets louder and louder, the lights from
it streaming through the windows of the waiting room. Julia smashes the
glass to get a look, screams and collapses.

This highly effective bit of supernatural jiggery-pokery almost banishes
memories of Askey from our minds, but he’s still there (sadly) as
the story resolves itself into a bit of wartime propaganda with lots of
fifth columnists getting shot.

If you can get past the inclusion of Askey (and it’s a big “if”),
The Ghost Train is a very effective little film. Everyone else
is playing it dead straight, which makes the ghostly goings-on work very
well indeed.